Whitebark Stream Travel light, let the sun eclipse you.

When a small voice piped up behind him, Artyom canted an ear backward. His head was swift to follow and, in the darkness, he saw movement among his bundle of cubs nestled together at their mother's flank. Hopeful that his youngsters would simply settle again on their own, he maintained his silence.

Alas, his moment of peace was cut short, and the tired father exhaled heavily through his nostrils. Still, he welcomed Winter to him with a soft rumble, and dipped his head to deliver a fond nudge to the boy's sterling brow. "You've seen дождь before," he told the boy, "it feeds the plants for the deer to eat and replenishes the stream, so that we might drink from it."